


Beauty Comes In Many Forms

by Azeran



Series: AU-ThorxJotun!Loki [1]
Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jotun Loki, Jotunn | Frost Giant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:47:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azeran/pseuds/Azeran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn’t supposed to be attractive. Thor thought this petulantly, but with no real ire as he stared at the figure who had just shed the hood of his cloak, ice clinging to its hem and glittering like faded nephrite. His experience had taught him that Jotnar were of crude features and harsh lines, hairless with horns sprouting from their brow. His consort to be was none of these things. He possessed the same icy blue skin of his people, complete with the blood markings etched across his brow and cheeks. But where the two Jotnar who stood beside him were thick and stocky, tall as a miniature hill, he was small, perhaps eye level with Thor himself. His horns curled back from his head and shone a glossy black, almost as rich looking as the hair that spilled in thick, rippling waves around his shoulders and became lost in the cloak of fur and dark green cloth covering his form from the neck down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty Comes In Many Forms

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Marvel, Thor, or Loki. Obviously. I've just taken to writing these things to please myself, and you peeps who read them. Anywho, this is just a short little ficlet I wanted to do because--well, I could. And you readers wanted more Thorki XD Which, by the way, there shall be more of. Maybe some frostiron too.

He wasn’t supposed to be attractive. Thor thought this petulantly, but with no real ire as he stared at the figure who had just shed the hood of his cloak, ice clinging to its hem and glittering like faded nephrite. When Odin had told him he was to wed a Jotun prince, he’d expected the worst. A tall, misshapen brute of a creature, who cared only for war and toppling the very throne of Asgard from the inside. Thor had been furious, suspicious, and made no light of it until the time had come for him to meet his intended, who stood now before him on the bifrost with near naked limbs and an impassive look on his face. It was that face he was drawn to, for surely this could not be a Jotun? His experience had taught him that they were of crude features and harsh lines, hairless with horns sprouting from their brow. 

His consort to be was none of these things. Quite the opposite, in fact. He possessed the same icy blue skin of his people, complete with the blood markings etched across his brow and cheeks. But where the two Jotnar who stood beside him were thick and stocky, tall as a miniature hill, he was small, perhaps eye level with Thor himself. His horns curled back from his head and shone a glossy black, almost as rich looking as the hair that spilled in thick, rippling waves around his shoulders and became lost in the cloak of fur and dark green cloth covering his form from the neck down. As he walked the fabric rippled, parting enough in the front to showcase impossibly long, muscled legs. Thor swallowed heavily, forcing his gaze back up to the Jotun prince’s face. A terrible mistake. The minute he did so, he was faced with eyes a staggering shade of crimson, brighter than the other double pairs looking down on him in disdain. 

The longer he stared into them, the more he realized that there was something different within their cold depths. Curiosity, intrigue. And a weighty distrust that surpassed that of his guards. This shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, but Thor wasn’t used to not being trusted. He was Prince of Asgard, Thor Odinson. Champion of the realms, his name emblazoned through history across time and space. The gods weaved songs of his deeds, spoke poems blessing his heroics, and his might. He was a hero! Yet none of this seemed to matter to the diminutive Jotun. One look at Thor, and he had made his decision. Flustering slightly, the prince bowed his head and spread his hands in welcome to the small party. However much the entire situation made him feel uneasy, he had his duties to uphold. And he wouldn’t be seen the fool, as well as a foe. 

“In the name of Odin, I welcome you to Asgard.” Stepping forward, Thor presented his best smile. “I am-”

“Thor Odinson.” The name he’d heard all his life sounded so strange, coming from that husky voice. It took him a moment to realize the other prince was who had spoken it, and that he too had moved closer, a hint of mockery in his eyes as he gestured with his palms, mimicking Thor’s welcome. “And so Asgard sends its prince to greet me. How quaint. Did the Allfather think us unworthy of a proper royal welcome, or is this how you treat all of your visitors?” Rumbling came from either side of him; the Jotnar version of laughter, apparently. Chuckling himself, the Jotun gave Thor a cool smile. “Close your mouth, Odinson. If it opens any wider, your jowls may well gape open forever, and I’ve no interest in a mate who smiles like a hungry beast.” 

It took all the strength he held not to growl like one too. Had he just been insulted, and by another prince? None would dare! Thor frowned, casting a suspicious look over the three blue skinned strangers. “You are Laufey’s son, are you not?” Had Jotunheim sent a fake envoy as some trick? He wouldn’t put it past them. Their hearts were as frozen as their realm; trickery could not be an unfathomable skill in their arsenal. In fact, that made perfect sense. Laufey had sent some fake prince to Asgard in lieu of his own flesh and blood, and the entire arrangement was a ruse for whatever nefarious plot he had planned. The engagement, the truce. All lies. But the trick might have worked better, had they chosen a proper Jotun to play the part. This….runt was far too pretty to be the true prince. 

Growling in the back of his throat, Thor began to reach for Mjolnir, predominately strapped to his hip. They thought to deceive him, the son of Odin? No loveliness would spare these monsters their fate. He would bash their skulls into the bifrost, and send their carcasses back to the broken wasteland they called home! Let Jotunheim then see what Asgard thought of their treachery. 

The tips of his fingers brushed the leather wrapped handle, but then the strange Jotun laughed. Thor was immediately caught off guard. It was a musical sound, like liquid ice falling across a weeping willow, or the boughs of scarlet mistletoe. He thought of winter winds, and playful snowflakes, and it mystified him to see the sound coming from his exotic not intended. “Stay your hand, Odinson. It would do you no good. Nor do I believe the Allfather forgiving enough to pardon you for the murder of your intended.” One of those azure colored palms extended towards him, fingertips pointed to the sky. Their owner grinned, showing a mouthful of teeth white as shell, or freshly fallen snow, and the briefest flicker of a pink tongue. “I am Loki Laufeyson. Third heir to the throne of Jotunheim. And, if the treaty stands, your future consort.”

Obviously the prince was determined to make him the fool. Thor had not stopped gawking and sputtering since he’d laid eyes on him. He blamed those curvaceous thighs and blacker than pitch hair, though being stared at with irises brighter than all the gems in Nidhogg’s treasure trove did not help matters. Thor met them again, feeling heat beneath his collar. Nay, it certainly didn’t. “Prince Loki. “ He bowed, stiff and formal, a few wispy tendrils of blond falling over his shoulder. “Of course the treaty stands. As far as I can see, there has been no subterfuge…” the Jotun guards shared a glance, but their charge looked on placidly, meeting Thor’s gaze with only a hint of amusement in his smile. 

“Subterfuge? I didn’t know it was a custom of Asgard to accuse its guests of trickery within their first moments of arrival.” Loki cocked his head to the side. “What a unique manner of welcome you Aesir have.” One of his proffered arms extended towards Thor, the intent clear. It was their customary greeting, shared between kinsman and warriors. How he knew of it was a mystery. Thor’s teeth grit in annoyance, and he stared at the limb without taking it, which earned him a warning growl from the guards. They stepped forth, frost coating their knuckles to take shape into weaponry. “Be at peace,” Loki’s other hand rose in the air, and their actions halted almost instantly. “There’s no need for that. I only thought to exchange our hellos in a fashion that was more familiar to you.” 

“And risk your frostbite?” Thor rumbled, torn between grinning and scowling at the prince. Though his words were prettily spoken, Loki was mocking him with every other breath. And openly too. That he dared to do so was impressive. Engaged or not, they were not yet bound in matrimony, which made his station here in Asgard tumultuous, at best. At any moment, he could be thrown back to Jotunheim in shame. Lips falling into a wary frown, the thunderer stared at Loki. Or perhaps that was only his ego at play. In the week’s before Loki’s arrival, Odin had firmly stressed to him that the treaty between their two realms was a precious commodity, as was the little Jotun standing before him. Neither could Asgard afford to lose. Loki was Laufey’s favorite, if not heir apparent, and he wielded talents the likes of which had all the realms speaking in hushed whispers, and Jotunheim’s spirits soaring. If ever there was a jewel to rival their cask in nature, it was him. 

Asgard could not lose him. The blow would strike them like the cruelest lash of a whip. Unless it was proven that Loki was only here to cause mayhem, or work some iniquitous scheme beneath their noses, he was all but untouchable. And to think, this creature was his to woo and charm. A heavy swallow tickled his throat; Thor would never admit to it being nerves. While Loki looked on, bored apart from the knowing quirk of his mouth, he breached the gap between them and motioned for the Jotun’s forearm. “I had not intended for a visit to the healers today, but if it would make you happy-” 

Loki’s responding laugh was boisterous. “You risk your own misery, just to please me?” A pleasing gleam flashed through his crimson orbs, and thin lips curled back in a genuine, if lazy, smile. “I’d begun to wonder whether the rumors of your realm’s hospitable nature had been exaggerated. It’s pleasing to know that isn’t the case.” Thor waited, anxious, but the first touch did naught but feel like a cool breeze. Blinking, he looked down at their arms. Loki held his just below the elbow, in proper Asgardian fashion. Yet there was no pain. No agony. Nothing, save the cold, and it was nothing like what he’d imagined. He couldn’t help but question this oddity. 

“You don’t burn me. Is this some trick, Laufeyson?” 

“Trick? No. Merely a clever means to dampen the worst of the chill. I’ve even less use for a mate that is mottled beyond recognition than one who is monstrous.” If he saw the way his head shot up with those words, Loki said nothing about it. Hitching his forefinger across the inner arch of Thor’s elbow, he curiously prodded and stroked what muscles he could feel. The rest of his digits were mapping metal vambraces with their belly of dark red, following each line etched into the silvery metal. 

They weren’t so different from the ones Loki wore, Thor thought. His were more streamlined, designed to cater to his smaller form, and the metal’s hue changed between that of smoke and a cloudy afternoon with the slightest shift of the eye, never keeping with just one, but melding together. He was sure he saw a discoloration near the wrist as well, spreading up and across to trim the metal’s top. It was similar to the chartreuse glimmers in the bridge under their feet. He didn’t need to be a sorcerer to figure it out either. 

“Magic…” 

“Seidr,” Loki spoke almost simultaneously, with a smile that positively dared him to say anything more. “I am well versed in it.” He dropped his arm and casually began to traipse towards the faraway city, footsteps naked and casting diamond shimmers through the bridge as he walked. His guards shared a look and followed after him, stony faces impassive. Somehow, that still managed to be intimidating. 

Thor watched the party leave, gripping Mjolnir in a manner almost all would consider anxious. Loki’s hair floated behind him while he walked, a skein of ebony silk flitted through with tendrils of copper and gold under the afternoon sun. In his furs and green, and foreign metal, he was as imposing a creature as he was alluring, and none of it was diminished by his cold skin. In fact, Thor thought the blend of Jotun coloring and markings combined with facial features better resembling an elf’s were beautiful. Sharp, but beautiful. He didn’t let that distract him though. That Loki was lovely didn’t change that he was also Jotun. Their prince. His intended, and a sorcerer on top of it all. 

Stifling a groan, he took after his consort to be, lest Loki make another ill minded quip about their failed hospitality. Thor didn’t trust him. He didn’t have to. But for now, he did have to make the prince happy. Something told him that pleasing Loki was not going to be so simple as he wanted it to be. Loki was no fair maiden, or blushing damsel. They were both princes, brought up on legends of war and strife, and his realm was the loser in each and every one. How could he not be vengeful? Bitter? How was Thor to know whether or not this call for peace was but a mask to disguise the Jotnar’s true attempts? …He didn’t, of course. Until that changed, he could only stand back and watch things unfold, however they might.


End file.
